Unexpected bonds

Chapter two: symptoms and discovery

Hey guys! Just so you know I will not be writing many stories or chapters for this

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The following days after the battle felt like a blur for Midoriya. He went through routine checks with no immediate visible fallout from the chemical, save for a lingering fatigue that seemed to cling to him like a shroud. Bakugo insisted on accompanying him everywhere, paranoia fuelling his usually fiery demeanor.

"Stop looking at me like that," Midoriya chuckled one afternoon as they lay curled up on the couch after a long day of hero work.

Bakugo narrowed his eyes. "I'm just making sure you're not going to keel over or something. You looked pale."

"It's nothing—probably just a side effect from the fight," Midoriya reassured him. All the while, a strange sensation bubbled inside, a discomfort he couldn't quite put into words. The lingering fatigue transformed into nausea. He felt heat rising within him at odd moments—his body seemed to be sending him signals he hardly understood.

Days turned into a week, and the symptoms compounded until it became impossible to ignore. Each time he caught a whiff of food, his stomach twisted and turned like the tumultuous ocean. Excuses for meals turned into full avoidance, and Bakugo had noticed.

"Deku. You're not fooling anyone," he said one evening, a sharpness in his voice tempered with concern. They were wrapping up dinner, and Bakugo had been trying to get Midoriya to eat something—anything—without success.

"I'm just not very hungry," Midoriya replied sheepishly, wishing he could avoid the worry that clouded Bakugo's expression.

"Uh-huh," came the scoff, accompanied by Bakugo's signature eye roll. "You don't want to eat? That's a red flag right there." He fixed his gaze on Midoriya, something flickering in his eyes. "When was the last time you ate?"

Midoriya hesitated. "Um... a couple of days ago?"

Bakugo's eyes widened. "What the hell, Deku!" He shot up from his seat, fists clenching in frustration. "You need to take care of yourself! I can't have you collapsing on me again!"

It was hard to suppress the giggle that bubbled in Midoriya's throat from Bakugo's exaggerated reaction. But the laughter quickly turned into a wince as a fresh wave of nausea washed over him. He pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling the tightening coil within. "I'm fine, really. Just a bit of a stomach bug or something."

"Stomach bug? You haven't eaten in days! That's not normal, even for you!" Bakugo shot back, pacing the small kitchen as if the act could somehow help him figure out what to do next. He stopped suddenly, spinning on his heel to face Midoriya. "Look, I'm not letting you off the hook this time. We're going to the clinic. Right now."

Midoriya opened his mouth to protest, but the urgency in Bakugo's voice silenced him. He knew there was no point in arguing when Bakugo was like this—his determination could bulldoze through anything, including Midoriya's stubbornness.

"Fine, fine. Just... give me a minute to change," he mumbled, pushing himself off the couch. As he moved, the fatigue pressed down on him like an anchor, every step feeling heavier than the last.

The clinic was bustling with activity when they arrived. The air was thick with antiseptic, a smell that usually comforted Midoriya, but today it felt stifling. He followed Bakugo to the front desk, trying to maintain a calm exterior despite the unease swirling within him.

"Deku's not feeling well," Bakugo announced to the receptionist, his voice loud and unyielding. "He hasn't eaten in days and keeps looking like he's about to pass out."